


Fragile Stars

by reynesofcastamere



Series: Cracked Firmament [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Abuse, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynesofcastamere/pseuds/reynesofcastamere
Summary: Revelations come in many forms, though even the gentle ones may break you.
Relationships: Darth Maul/Ahsoka Tano
Series: Cracked Firmament [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012524
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Fragile Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Mild warnings for mentions of abuse, violence, and non-explicit smut. Set sometime between Order 66 and Malachor. Cross-posted from tumblr. Unbeta’d, sorry for quality.

“Do you remember the rules?”

“ **Yes**.”

“Repeat them, please?”

“Keep my hands here-” Brief pressure against padded armrests “- and do not use the Force until instructed otherwise. ‘Slow’ if I require you to lessen intensity or speed, and ‘Stop’ if I am somehow **overwhelmed** by this... _experiment_ of yours.” Maul’s dry cynicism is sharp enough to cut. If this is an assassination attempt, it is a poor one. Ahsoka Tano has no weapons or restraints in this room, has never learned how to break spines, crush windpipes, or stop a heartbeat with the Force. None of these disadvantages render her _harmless_.

“Good.” Ahsoka ignores the gaze currently attempting to burn a hole through her skull, crossing the intervening distance between them and straddling his lap without hesitation. Her bare hands trail down his chest, following the edges of where cloth meets skin. She works the material apart carefully, sliding both vest and undershirt off the curve of his shoulders, but no further. Maul is equal turns frustrated, impatient, and curious, which reflects in his eyes and the roiling current of his Force signature. Being near him sometimes is not unlike withstanding the full fury of an ice storm on Hoth; cold enough to freeze limbs within minutes, buffeted by freezing shards and howling winds.

The flesh beneath her fingertips is entirely the opposite. He practically **radiates** heat, the muscles in his torso twitching minutely as she traces along his ribcage. Ticklish, or expectation of pain? She doesn’t ask. Not yet. Her lips first meet the skin above his twin hearts, lingering there for long seconds before she continues her exploration. Ahsoka’s lips and tongue find imperfections, old and new, in the living canvas of his chest that her combat-roughened hands miss. She takes her time with them, feeling his breath hitch and _shudder_ even as the rest of him remains stock-still.

It becomes clear after a little while that Maul is a bit...puzzled by the fact that she hasn’t bitten him yet, despite ample time and opportunity to do so. Violence defines so many of their meetings, whether verbal, physical, or carnal. It defines her _life_ , under the Empire. **He** flourishes in it, but Ahsoka...Even spending most of her life fighting, she’s had safety, warmth, the simple comfort of friends and comrades. It’s a futile hope, to want _gentleness_ from someone like him. Even if his actions didn’t cause suffering for countless thousands, the parts of his body that aren’t cybernetic are a tapestry of abuse. Whatever hopes Maul might have had of being anything other than this were **_beaten_** out of him a long time ago. Still, she has to try **something**.

She starts to venture into more dangerous territory, hands dragging slowly up his back while her kisses mark a steady path along his collarbone and shoulders. A soft moan greets her when she reaches his neck, and when she glances up there’s a flicker of surprise in his expression, like he hadn’t expected that simple contact to feel quite so good. The tip of her tongue circles where she can feel his pulse beneath the skin. It’s a bit elevated, but no sudden spike that would indicate a panic response. And that _was_ a risk, with how close she was to a vital artery. She blows softly over the damp patch, feeling him **jolt** at the sensation.

Ahsoka isn’t ashamed to admit that her volatile sometimes-partner has a beautiful voice, nor what the sounds she wrings from him with soft and careful attention to the dark column of his throat and the strong line of his jaw are _doing_ to her. It becomes a struggle not to grind herself against him, just to take some of the edge off. Maul looks...drugged when their faces are level once more, dazed and panting, pupils eclipsing his sunburst eyes. It’s a marked departure from his usual focused intensity,even if his hands currently have a white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair they’re occupying. He lunges forward to capture her mouth with his, giving her the chance to reposition one of her hands at the back of his head. He outright _growls_ when she brushes the base of a horn before lightly tugging at it.

She pulls back after he starts nipping at her mouth, placing a finger to his lips to stop him from following. Maul **snarls** at her in misunderstanding and pure rage. “If your intention is to _**torment**_ me and bolt, you will soon learn the limits of my patience. As well as my _mercy_.” No threat from him is ever truly idle, something she knows all too well.

Shaking her head once in an an affirmative refusal, she takes the makeshift barrier of a single digit away, adjusting her position so that she can remove her tunic and breastband. “Let go.” She urges softly, waiting until his grip relaxes enough for her to peel off his gloves; her hands guiding his to the curve of her waist. “You can touch me now. Just-follow my lead?” And it is a question, this time. Ahsoka needs to know what he’s capable of outside the restriction of orders or rules. She kisses him again, brief and soft, one hand returning to his scalp to apply gentle patterns of pressure there. His eyes close as he shivers, and she kisses those as well. She reaches out to him through the Force and feels... **turbulence**. Uncertainty, realization, desire, fear, and some unknown shred of feeling all _screaming_ out at once. Maul’s grip tightens involuntarily as his eyes snap open, breath harsh and hurried.

“Do **not** ask this of me. I _cannot_ -” His teeth grind together as he cuts himself off abruptly. Her lips against his are a benediction this time, opening herself to him and feeling his almost-pained groan reverberate through her on every level.

“Maul.” Ahsoka knows what he meant to say, lets him feel it through their tentative bond. “It’s okay.” They are the only words she can give right now, and more to the point, they are all that he will accept. There is little room for pity between them. Still, he does kiss her again. His lips and his touches are hesitant and uncertain at first, but it doesn’t take too much guidance on her part for him to figure out what makes her whimper and roll her hips against his. Time blurs in a haze of heat and feeling until climax washes over them both. Ahsoka is lax and sated in a way she hasn’t been in...a long time. There is a warm hand stroking her back and a lovely, soft voice speaking her name and some words in what she **thinks** is Mando’a before sleep claims her. Unknowing of what her actions tonight have set in motion for them both.

**Author's Note:**

> So I don’t know how well I expressed this in the fic proper, but Ahsoka is not trying to redeem Maul in this thing. At all. This is more a case of ‘I’d like to walk away from one of these meetings without limping or covered in bite marks so let’s try something else’ with a dash of ‘unexpected feelings’ on both sides. Also, the state of Maul’s genitals (or lack thereof) is deliberately non-specific, so picture whatever you like. It’s more fun that way, at least in my opinion. Cheers, everyone!


End file.
